


Stitches

by Bananthony



Series: Redamancy [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananthony/pseuds/Bananthony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now that I'm without your kisses, I'm in need of stitches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "Stitches" by Shawn Mendes

_ _

 

_Got a feeling that I’m going under,_

_But I know I’ll make it out alive,_

_If I quit calling you my lover,_

_And move on._

 

Bethsaida ached. A simple pulsing ache, radiating from deep within her. Her feet took her as quickly as she could, to the library where Dorian had his outcove. She couldn’t see him. No, not Dorian. Him. She couldn’t bear to say his name. Not today, not tomorrow.

“Dorian,” she pleaded, her voice was shaky and high.

“Beth? What’s the matter? You look dreadful.”

“It hurts,” her voice broke and she could only imagine how pitiful she sounded. “Please help me. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Instantly Dorian was on her, fussing over his dear friend. He felt her red cheeks, glanced at her red-rimmed eyes, saw her hand clutching over her chest, and realization sunk in. His mouth dropped open into a small ‘o’ as he ceased his attentions.

“Oh, Beth,” he murmured, pulling her close. “That’s called heartbreak, my friend.”

 

_You watch me bleed until I can’t breathe,_

_Shaking, falling onto my knees._

_And now that I’m without your kisses,_

_I’ll be needing stitches._

 

“Sola--”

“No, Inquisitor,” his stern voice echoed all around her.

“I just wanted to ta--”

“I know,” his eyes softened before he glanced away. “But talking won’t make this feel any better.”

 

_Tripping over myself,_

_Aching, begging you to come help._

_And now that I’m without your kisses,_

_I’ll be needing stitches._

The days went unbearably slow for the inquisitor. She didn’t sleep well, not wanting to visit the fade in fear of something awful happening, yet again. She spent her nights peeking at reports, keeping her mind occupied. She thought it would help her catch up with her duties, maybe then this breakup could be worth something to somebody.

 

Of course, that isn’t how it worked out. Bethsaida was so exhausted, that the expeditions her and her companions went on often went poorly. Her magic was wild and untamed, resulting in burns on her hands from her staff, wounds on her party due to her weak barriers, and going through so much elfroot that they had to lead an expedition to the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast just for the herb.

Her companions never complained. The warriors guarded her more closely, watching for hits that she wasn’t paying attention to. She enlisted the help of Dorian or Vivienne for more mage support that she couldn’t provide. Her rogues took to pulling off the targets that went towards her. And each and every one gave her a kind, knowing look. It made her feel even worse.

 

_Needle and the thread,_

_Gotta get you out of my head._

 

Her mind was elsewhere when it happened. That “elsewhere” happened to be in Skyhold, sporting ragged clothes and a bald scalp. She pictured his gentle smile, surprisingly soft lips, and quiet chuckle. She pictured being wrapped in his arms again, ignoring the rest of the world. All things she may never see or feel again.

“Beth!” she vaguely heard Bull bellow.

The warning came too late, the blow landing in her side and tearing right through her light armor. The sudden pain caused her to cry out before she collapsed, clutching her bleeding side as she yanked the dagger from her side. It was a clear through and through, clean and precise and no poison.

Bethsaida clenched her teeth, trying to heal the wound. It wasn’t working, her mind blanking, vision blurring. There was too much blood, pooling all around her and soaking the grass. She saw Dorian’s hands appear in her line of sight, glowing green and constant. She sighed softly, ignoring Dorian’s quiet pleads as she slipped easily into a quiet, dark place.

 

_Needle and the thread,_

_Gonna wind up dead._


End file.
